no I am not Arthur Rimbaud,
nor was I meant to be.
not for me the life of poetry,
and half crazed crazy dreamings
the continental wanderings
and painted friends
a more sedate and longing end
that is my lot, and not a little more
in dreams perhaps i see myself,
set sail and round about
horizon, gibbous moon and mountain slope
a name from the not too distant past
dislodged my mind a little way
what he saw I'll never see
but in the end my dreams are free.
with inspiration from toilets
some comments to help the reader:
It's as easy to write bad poetry as it is to breathe,
but I was just filling in an empty nodeshell whcih reminded
me of a line in a poem by elliot (prufrock "no I am not
Hamlet, nor was I meant to be"). Go read about
Arthur Rimbaud and try to see if anything in the poem
has anything to do with him !
I even put a joke in the bottom. toilets is
an anagram of t s elliot. I'm not saying the poem is
good but its not purposless.